


Into The Future

by pinkdiamonds



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vegas, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 00:39:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5519108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkdiamonds/pseuds/pinkdiamonds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if John was dying but not dead on the hard and unforgiving desert floor? What if Rodney had gone to check?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into The Future

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Antares](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antares/gifts).



> Inspired by a manip by Antares.
> 
> Link to manip in the comments.

Detective John Sheppard was nearly dead by the time the medivac and the escort helo carrying McKay landed.

McKay could be heard barking orders as he took in the scene before him. He was massively pissed no one had thought to check if Sheppard had survived, taking the word of the Thunderbolt pilots that no one could have survived their strike.

He scrubbed at his face after the medivac carrying John had lifted off, heading back to Area 51. Returning his gaze to the scorched and still burning ground and the bullet riddled Camaro, Rodney was only mildly surprised Sheppard had survived. Having met the man in several realities, he knew Sheppard had the devil’s own luck despite a suicidal streak a mile wide.

“Put out the flames and go through the rubble and sweep up every bit of Wraith tech you can see,” he ordered the airmen. “I know it all looks like unrecognizable junk, but we can’t afford to take any chances. Garbage bags are in the chopper.”

He didn’t really think anything usable could survive an A-10 Thunderbird strike, but he wanted the airmen out of the way when he went through Sheppard’s car. He began in the trunk, removing all personal contents and dumping them into one of the trash bags. He took out the two suitcases, not bothering to open them once he lifted them out of the trunk. They were both too light to contain what he was looking for.

Moving to the Camaro’s interior he spied a large black satchel on the front passenger seat. Turning to make sure the airmen were all busy, he reached through the shot out window and opened the bag finding exactly what he thought he’d find. He closed the bag and pulled it out, placing it in another bag. He went through the glove box and took everything without bothering to look at anything. 

The only thing left in the car was a rolled up poster. McKay grabbed it thinking it must be important if Sheppard had gone to the trouble of taking it. He didn’t have much, so anything he had must have some value to Sheppard, if only sentimental. 

Carrying the poster so it wouldn’t get crushed, McKay walked around the car, his face creased in thought. He pulled out his cell and angrily jabbed at it. “Walter? This is McKay. Get a flatbed truck out to the site and get Sheppard’s car towed to a garage that’s capable of restoring it,” he requested.

“I don’t care if it would be cheaper to buy him a new car,” he said after a moment of silence. “The government owes him. Just make this happen,” he snarled, disconnecting the call. 

He stowed the two bags, the luggage, and the poster on the chopper and went to supervise the cleanup.

~*~

It was like surfacing from a deep-sea dive he didn’t remember making. He felt himself rising ever closer to full consciousness, trying to put events together in his mind. The last thing he clearly remembered was finding the old Air Stream. Everything after that was a black, blank hole.

He remained still, nearly fully awake now and reached out with his senses. He became aware of a machine beeping steadily first. It smelled - - antiseptic. Muffled voices could just barely be heard. He could feel cool air circulating, but he was warm. A lightweight blanket covered most of him. He felt pain, but it wasn’t overwhelming. It felt distant and disconnected. He also felt a large hand running through his hair.

A hospital he thought. He wondered if he’d gotten another beat down from the goons he owed. That can’t be right, he thought. No bones felt broken and that was always their go to. He took stock again and under the antiseptic hospital odor he could smell the upscale cologne he associated with McKay.

Flashes of gunfire and one hell of an explosion crossed his mind’s eye and he struggled to sit up.

“Easy, Detective. You’re fine. Or you will be,” McKay said softly. “You saved the planet and got shot for your trouble. Everything you had in your car is in this room, mostly in garbage bags and your car is being repaired.”

“Where am I?” Sheppard rasped.

“The infirmary at Area 51. You took a few bullets, and you lost a great deal of blood. We medivacced you out,” came the swift reply.

“Can I get some water?”

John felt a straw in his mouth and icy cool water sliding down his parched throat. “Thanks,” he said after a few sips. “When can I get out of here?”

Snorting, Rodney answered, “Maybe you’ll let the holes in you close up just a bit.”

“I’ve had worse, McKay,” he lied

“Sure you have. Let me get Doctor Keller.”

~*~

Six days later, John dressed himself, moving gingerly. He was still sore, but no longer in any real pain. He’d gone through his belongings in the middle of the night relieved to see the money hadn’t been touched. 

He was buttoning up his shirt when McKay walked in and sat on the chair beside his hospital bed. “So, what are your plans now? I mean, you’ve quit your job, your car isn’t ready, and you’ve sublet your apartment.”

“Yeah… Speaking about my car, do you know when it’ll be ready?”

“The garage said at least another three weeks. They had to order parts from a few different places,” Rodney explained. “The government will be happy to get you a rental in the meantime.”

“That’s nice of them,” John drawled sarcastically. “Think they’ll spring for a Porsche?”

“If that’s what you want, I’ll make it happen,” Rodney offered, ignoring Sheppard’s piss poor attitude. “Do you have a place to stay in the meantime?” he inquired.

“I was thinking I’d go camping for a few days,” John confessed. The very last place he wanted to be was in a hotel or even a motel. Too many temptations and opportunities to slip up. 

“And after that?”

“I thought I’d head out to the coast and, I don’t know, surf for a bit. Maybe open up a surf shop.”

“Yes, because the West Coast doesn’t have quite enough surf shops.” McKay said snidely. He slipped out a new smart phone and handed it to Sheppard. “My number is programmed in. Get your shit together and give me a call. If you decide you’d like to make a difference, I have a proposal.”

“Not interested, McKay.”

“You haven’t heard my proposal.”

“Still not interested.”

“Whatever,” McKay snapped as he rose to leave. “If you don’t call me, I’ll call you when your car is ready. An airman will drive you into town to rent a car.” He was at the door when he turned. “You gambling debts have been paid. Try not to get yourself killed before you come to your senses.”

~*~

Several hours later, John had visited his bank and put most of the stolen cash in a safety deposit box, and was now on his way to California in a jeep courtesy of Uncle Sam. McKay had even provided him with a credit card and a five thousand dollar line of credit. It had been a long time since John had been on his own and with no responsibilities. 

~*~

Two weeks later, John had surfed every day, and found someone to fuck every night. The problem with that was with every empty encounter, John felt large, strong hands ghosting through his hair. He’d gone so far last night to cruise the gay bars in search of a stocky, blue eyed man. He’d found one, but the guy wasn’t McKay. He wasn’t a genius, didn’t have a slightly skewed mouth, or a sharp, sarcastic wit.

John resolved to call McKay today in order to find out about his car. That was what he told himself at any rate. He followed his usual pattern of a large breakfast knowing he’d soon burn off the calories. He took his time eating, savoring every bite. It had been years since he’d taken such good care of himself and it was beginning to show in his healthy skin tone and rebuilt lean muscle.

~*~

Sheppard pressed the preset number, feeling foolish because he was nervous. McKay answered after one ring.

“Sheppard. Tired of surfing yet?” McKay bit out.

“Not yet, McKay. I’ve still got a couple of grand on the card.”

“Your car will be ready in two weeks.”

“Glad to hear it,” John answered sincerely. 

“You ready to hear my proposal yet?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“If it’s a proposal or a proposition,” John flirted, hoping to get under McKays skin.

“I can offer you both. Or either,” McKay said quickly.

“McKay,” John growled. “Don’t yank my chain.”

“That would only be in my proposition.”

John laughed. “I’ll give you a call in a week or so.” He hung up before he could say anything else stupid. 

John had fully expected McKay to either ignore his flirting or deflect it. He hadn’t been prepared for the other man to flirt right back. It had been some time since he’d flirted with intent. Now he just had to figure out what he wanted to do.

~*~

A week later, Sheppard didn’t care if he didn’t see a surfboard for the next ten years. He’d had his fill. Trying to keep up with the younger and far fitter surfers had taken its toll, both physically and mentally. John was starting to realize he wasn’t a kid any more and he needed to get his shit together. 

He’d miss the small bungalow by the ocean he’d rented, but not enough to consider staying any longer or looking for a fixer upper for himself. A week after his conversation with McKay, John awoke early, quickly packed and was on the road before the sun had fully risen.

The drive was easy and thoughts of McKay’s strong body moving against his filled John’s thoughts. Pushing the Jeep to 90 once on I-15, John finally felt ready to forgive himself and move on with his life. He was a half hour away from the Nevada border and the small town of Primm when John spied the phone booth, standing forlornly on the side of the road. He remembered he hadn’t called McKay to let him know he was on his way into town. 

He pulled the jeep over amused that no one had been out to take down the phone booth. It took three rings before McKay answered his phone.

“Sheppard. Is everything okay? I didn’t expect to hear from you for at least another week.”

“I’m about an hour out of town,’ John said.

“You ready to talk?”

“Yeah, McKay. Let’s start with your proposition and work our way up to the proposal.” John smiled as the astrophysicist rapidly rattled off an address in an upscale part of town. 

John drove off and into his future.


End file.
